


Real Life Fairytale

by Squishy_TRex



Category: Mad Max Series (Movies)
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, F/F, Kissing, Lesbian Sex, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-17
Updated: 2015-10-17
Packaged: 2018-04-26 21:01:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,333
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5020399
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Squishy_TRex/pseuds/Squishy_TRex
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>And if she’s learned anything from the stories and fairytales she's read, it’s that a princess always has a knight.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Real Life Fairytale

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Wolfee18](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wolfee18/gifts).



> I'm taking a lot of liberties with canon (or what I assume is canon) in Mad Max: Fury Road when it comes to the characters, Splendid and Furiosa in particular. I'm really only going off what I've seen in the movie so I don't have a lot (if any background knowledge from the comics, commentary, or director's/writer's interviews. So if anything about their relationship isn't quite right or relates to the canon perfectly, I apologize.
> 
> Any other mistakes are mine and I apologize for those as well. 
> 
> Hope you enjoy!

The only things Immortan Joe gave them that Angharad did not reject outright were the books.

They are an even scarcer resource than the water or gasoline and even though it had taken her long, painstaking weeks of tutoring, she learned to read all of them. And out of the limited supply (though Joe, pleased that she had taken to one of his gifts, made sure to find as many as he could for her), she quickly found a favorite type.

Miss Giddy called them “fairytales” and Angharad loved them with her whole heart.

The books that held them were tattered and missing words, but she didn’t care. All of them were read, over and over again. Princesses trapped in faraway castles, terrifying dragons of scorching flame with impenetrable armor, and the courageous knights that braved everything for love.

She imagines them all as dreams, fantasies of ideals and places that clearly no longer exist.

Her sisters don’t quite understand her fascination with the stories. In the quiet moments, when Joe has left them alone, she tries to read to all of them from the books she’s collected.

Angharad excitedly tells them some of her favorites, the girl from the water who wishes to dance upon dry land, the princess with long golden hair, hidden away from the world. Capable listens patiently, with brows furrowed, thoughtful finger tapping against her chin, but Angharad senses her friend isn’t quite as captured by them. But she listens anyway, which Angharad is thankful for.

Toast scoffs, declaring, with a sneer she doesn’t main, that the stories are foolish and the only things they need to believe are what they can see in the world around them. She’ll make a show of rolling her eyes or glaring fiercely or stomping away, leaving Angarad to her “pointless dreaming.” But she always notices that Toast lingers in the doorway or against the shadows of the wall, still listening.

Cheedo doesn’t understand them at all and she’s not angry the way Toast is, just confused. The Dag, who always lingers close to Cheedo, touching or holding her softly, seems enraptured by them, asking questions Angharad isn’t sure how to answer.

They may not quite feel for them the way she does, but they listen. It’s enough for her.

So she keeps reading them, aloud to her sisters, quietly to herself. And when she is forced to be with Joe, the words and images rush through her head, a blessed distraction. She is as far away from him as she can possibly be; only present enough as she has to be.

His face is that of a dragon’s and when she looks at it, fierce gaze in her eyes, a minute snarl to her lips, she imagines cutting it off. It’s the only time she smiles during these times.

The fairytales teach her that it is possible to leave this place. The princesses always leave their towers and cages eventually. Angharad knows that, if it were possible, she would have fled long ago. But another thing she learns from the fairytales is that the heroes always have help. And no one is ever left behind.

So if Angharad is going to escape this tower, her sisters are coming with her.

However, despite her violent desire for freedom, Angharad doesn’t know where to go. And if she wants to escape with her sisters, there must be a destination in mind; they will never be convinced otherwise. All she ever seems to see is a vast ocean of wasteland outside their confines, when allowed the smallest glimpses. And she can barely remember any life before; no safe home, warm smiles, or kind words in her memory to guide her back.

She thinks that maybe it would be better if they ran and died in the desert, tasting something of freedom for the first time and then letting the earth have their bones, their souls mingling in the wind.

It’s a tempting thought, a dream Angharad has more than once, one that she is always pulled back from when she thinks of her sisters. Of Cheedo, still so young and small. Of Toast, a brutal fighter who would never accept death among the sand. Of The Dag, who deserves a better sort of freedom. And of her beloved Capable, who would follow Angharad anywhere, even if it meant her own death.

No, they can’t leave unless there is a plan for them to find a safe place, free and away from Joe.

But, as if brought to her through the magic that only seems to exist in her books, a thought, a brilliant idea is born in her mind.

There is one person who might know what lies beyond the wastes, someone who could guide them from under the watchful gaze of Joe.

The Imperator.

Furiosa. Joe’s strongest and most respected warrior. Driver of the War Rig. 

Angharad has heard more of her than she’s seen. That she used to be a Wife, that no one dares to cross her, that Joe allows her as much free reign as she likes, that all the Warboys follow her unquestioningly, to the point of even modeling their looks and behavior after her.

She sounds formidable; like everything Angharad wishes she could be. If all this is true, then she can only imagine what the Imperator looks like. So she knows she has to see for herself. Mostly because she must know if the Imperator can be trusted. But also because she’s curious.

The Wives know, more than anyone else, that Joe loves to display his power. When he confers with his warriors, brothers, imperators, he always makes sure he looks his strongest, most powerful. And he always brings at least one Wife with him, clutched close to the false armor covering his saggy, pestilent flesh.

Angharad has not been chosen for such an “honor” in a long time, not since she thrust her thumbs into his eye sockets when she was pulled close enough. But the gasoline was running low and plans would be made to send out the War Rig soon. Which meant a conference. With the Imperator Furiosa. Angharad will be there. She is willing to debase herself if she must; another thing learned from fairytales is that sacrifice is always necessary.

Joe comes for them that night in the Vault and when they kneel before him, like every night before, he announces he will be bringing one of them for the “honor” of sitting at his side during the conference. Angharad sucks in a deep breath, which draws Capable’s quiet attention, and lifts her head to meet her captor directly.

“Immortan Joe,” he turns his masked gaze towards her, eyes betraying their surprise. “I would be so grateful if…if you chose me for such an honor.” The words are poison in her mouth, but she takes it anyway. A necessity, she thinks, that will have been well worth it if they escape.

“Ah, Splendid,” he says, coming her way. She can imagine the belittling smile on his face. “Your presence at my side is always coveted. But I have a long memory,” he says, his heavy footsteps reverberating. “And the last time I brought you with me, you attempted to harm me. Made me look foolish.” His mask hisses against the last word, adding sinister undertones to it.

“I swear to you, my Immortan,”she hates the words as they pass her lips. ”I was out of my head. I did not get the adequate rest and water Miss Giddy instructed me to. I am sorry that I attempted to harm you in my fit and I regret making you look foolish.” She will never regret what she did then. Hopefully she won’t regret what she does now.

“If I were to bring you, Splendid,” he’s teasing her now. “I could be counted on you to behave? During all of it? And after, if I were to take you to my chamber?” Angharad bites down so hard on her lip she swears she can taste copper.

“Yes, my Immortan, I would behave in any way you wanted me to.” More poison. She thinks of slaying dragons with words instead of swords and the thought buoys her.

His eyes smile at her. He thinks he’s won.

“Alright, Splendid, since you asked so pleasantly, I will give you the coveted seat of honor.” Angharad silently grits her teeth at the choice of words. “Even despite your resistance, you are still my favorite and I will give you anything you wish so long as you ask for it.” The words are meant as a taunt to the other Wives. As he turns to leave, she hopes her sisters are deaf to them. When he finally departs and everyone exhales at once, Angharad can suddenly feel four pairs of eyes on her.

Deliberately not looking at any of them, she stands and grabs her worn book of fairytales before

She feels a warm hand on her shoulder and turns to see Capable, looking at her critically, expecting an answer. Angharad, still unsure if the plan will work, only offers a smile.

“I’m alright.” She watches her sister’s eyes fill with worry instead, but Angharad gently clasps her hands to soothe her. “I promise.” The answer satisfies Capable for now, but Angharad knows her sister will keep watching her to make sure it’s true. Even this small deception Angharad hates, but she hopes that she tells her everything soon.

For now, she must focus on the Imperator and the plan to be free.

***

Angharad despises being so close to the Immortan, willingly. Acting more like something he owns instead of the person she is. But she can suffer it. For today. Because today she gets to see the Imperator, truly, for the first time. And hopefully gauge how the only woman who seems to hold any power in the Citadel can help them.

She hasn’t arrived yet, even though everyone is assembled. Rictus looks at her curiously, remembering when she was here last and why she could possibly be here now. He isn’t the only one who’s staring either. And Joe, noticing the attention, seems even happier about it. Probably thinking that they’re impressed he finally managed to tame the wild and defiant Splendid Angharad.

Angharad retreats to her head, the dreams and imaginings comforting her from the endless ogling and soft whispers. A decade passes in her mind before she hears (and unfortunately feels) the Immortan’s soft chuckles and the rough voice that follows after.

“My Imperator Furiosa. Join us.”

Angharad looks up and the whole world melts away.

Imperator Furiosa stands there before her, tall, strong. A figure sculpted from muscle, definitive lines traced on her arms. Her clothes are those of a soldier, with breasts still visible underneath the clothing and armor she has. The most prominent armor she has is strapped to her arm, glinting metal that is attached at the shoulder. Despite carrying the dust of the Waste with her, it can’t hide the fierce beauty present in her face. A sharp jawline, piercing eyes, and a mouth that looks warm.

It is as if the knights from her book have been brought to life.

Angharad feels a fluttering in her chest, like her heart is trying to leave it. It’s a foreign feeling that distracts her at first.

But as Immortan Joe plans with the Imperator and the rest, she watches her, this Furiosa, who, while saying nothing, still says so much. Angharad sees a lip curling even while she agrees with the Immortan, Eyes narrowing even while she nods. Fist clenched even when she allows his touch.

By the end of the meeting, Angharad knows this Furiosa hates the Immortan as much as any of the Wives. Which lends weight to the whisper that she used to be one.

As the Imperator readies to leave, she spares a glance to Angharad. It would’ve been a fleeting look, but she holds her gaze and unfurls a slow smile, the kind that’s sweet but still hides much. Something passes in the Imperator’s eyes before she looks away, recounts her allegiance to the Immortan, and departs.

Everyone else disassembles and the Immortan clutches Angharad, quickly leaving for his chambers to make sure she fulfills her promise to him. She endures it, but when she closes her eyes to his face, images of another takes its place, her strong jaw and bright eyes a beautiful dream.

After he is done, she lays on her back, arms tucked into herself as he pulls her closer to him. She steadies her breathing before she speaks.

“I feel unsafe. In the Citadel.”

Immortan Joe narrows his eyes, his grip tightening on her.

“Not around you, of course my Immortan.” Angharad swallows the bile rising in her throat. “But I saw, when you were conferring with your Imperator, many stares upon me. Upon parts of me that are only meant for your eyes.” She sees the anger flash in his eyes and is grateful he’s so easy to play.

“I still want to be by your side, but I would be more comfortable with more…protection. From someone that can be trusted not to…want me.” Capable is always chiding Angharad for being too reckless. She wishes her sister could see her now.

Immortan Joe nods.

“If you promise to stay by my side and behave, I think I can arrange for Imperator Furiosa to watch over you when she is here at the Citadel.” Angharad pretends her smile is for the Immortan.

“Yes, my Immortan. Thank you. I only want to be safe.” And she will, once they can leave.

***

Mere days after Imperator Furiosa returns, Immortan Joe brings her to Angharad. He has promised that in exchange for good behavior towards him, she will be allowed limited access to certain nicer areas of the upper floors of the Citadel with the Imperator’s protection.

Of course this just really means the greenery and a few small rooms close to the Immortan’s chambers, but it is enough for Angharad. It is more than the Vault.

Their first “outings” are mostly silent, Angharad walking or resting in the Citadel while the Imperator stays close behind. It’s…strange, being alone with someone who is not her one of her sisters. Especially someone who won’t talk.

She starts to feel frustrated, but she’s never been one for giving up so the next time they are together, seated in the shade of the greenery, Angharad brings her book of fairytales, hoping to start some sort of conversation.

Several minutes of silent reading informs Angharad that she must be the one to start conversation or else nothing will happen at all.

“Do you read, Imperator?” she says, sliding her eyes from the pages to the tall figure beside her.

“I am here for your protection. That’s it.” Her voice is firm, final. But Angharad is not deterred.

“You didn’t answer the question.”

“I don’t have to.”

Angharad goes quiet for a minute, wondering how best to proceed.

“I’m not going to tell him anything,” she says.” I hate him too.”

The Imperator scoffs. “What do you know about hate?” she responds, still looking down at Angharad.

“About as much as you do, I think. Maybe more,” Angharad says, feeling slightly angry at the Imperator for

Both of them fall silent, the only noise coming from the water flowing to the green. Tension between them simmers in the hot air, until the silence is finally broken.

“I don’t know how to read,” the Imperator admits.  Angharad smiles, her anger cooling off.

“Would you like it if I read to you, Imperator?” At this, the Imperator finally looks down, gaze still hard. Angharad looks back and tucks back some of her golden hair that’s fallen in front of her face. For some reason, this motion causes the Imperator’s eyes to soften.

“If you want,” she responds. 

Angharad pats the ground next to her. “Come sit beside me, Imperator.”

She fidgets a minute before sighing and lowering herself to sit next to Angharad.

“You can call me Furiosa,” she says. A thrum of heat goes through Angharad at the words and the closeness of their bodies. She smiles softly.

And she reads.

***

This becomes their routine. Angharad will read, Furiosa will listen.

It’s almost always the fairytales, partly because Angharad adores them, but also because Furiosa seems to like them the best. She reads through all her favorites and always comes back to the one with princesses and knights- the sleeping beauties, girls in towers, slippers of glass.

They become…close. That’s the only word Angharad has to term their relationship, but it is far from adequate. She still doesn’t know very much about Furiosa, except that she seems to ache for her presence, the closeness of her strong, warm body. And the deep tremor of her voice.

Angharad still wants freedom for her and her sisters more than anything, but her growing affections for Furiosa are becoming stronger every day. Luckily she doesn’t have to wait long.

They are together, in a quiet alcove by the Vault, Angharad just about ready to open her book when Furiosa, seated beside her places her hand on the book’s cover.

“I think,” she says. “I’ll tell a story today, if you don’t mind.”

Angharad wordlessly sets the book aside and

And she listens as Furiosa tells the story of a paradise known as the Green Place, with the Many-Mothers. A land free from the Immortan, where women live and work together in peace. She talks of the Keeper of the Seeds, of Mary-Jo Bassa, of the Valkyrie, all with a deep aching in her voice that speaks of tremendous loss.

But of tremendous yearning too, with clarity and passion that Angharad can feel deep in her bones. It warms her from the inside out and she can only wonder if this is what the true love in her fairytales feels like.

Furiosa finishes her story and grows quiet, sadness settling in her eyes.

“It sounds as wonderful as any of my fairytales,” Angharad says.

Furiosa gives a short huff of a laugh. “I guess it is.”

Angharad smiles at her, hoping to alleviate her sorrow. “I would like to go there if such a place exists.”

Furiosa returns the smile for her trouble. “So would I.”

Their fingers intertwine and Angharad feels her heart soar.

***

Angharad is brimming with fury when she sees Furiosa again. She takes one look at Angharad

“What is it?” Furiosa asks, voice equal parts rough and worried.

Angharad shakes her head. Immortan Joe was displeased this morning. Cheedo suffered for it.

“My sisters and I need to be free of the Immortan.

“Don’t do anything stupid Angharad. You can’t help them if you’re dead,” Furiosa says. Angharad bristles.

“I would rather be dead than be at his mercy. Than watch my sisters be at his mercy.” The words are out of her mouth before she can stop them and Furiosa’s face falls.

“Don’t say that,” she whispers, harsh and aching.

Angharad doesn’t respond, just looks away at the stone floor and breathes heavily, thinking of Cheedo and her cries of pain. The thought sobers her anger. She looks up at Furiosa.

“You told me about the Green Place. You speak of it like it’s real.”

Furiosa looks away, her shoulders slumping. “It was. I hope it still is.”

“Then you can take us there!” Angharad exclaims. “We can’t stay here much longer. I won’t let him hurt any more of us, not when we can leave.”

Furiosa shakes her head and walks away from Angharad. They’re in the greenery, in the late evening, when the sun has all but left the sky. Immortan Joe had retired to his workshop, leaving Angharad with Furiosa and the promise that he would come for her later. She at least wanted to spend time with the woman she was coming to love before being forced with the man she hated. But Furiosa’s slipping away from her and has seated herself underneath an overhanging of a plant Angharad doesn’t know the name of.

“You’re not the only one who’s caged,” Furiosa says, eyes looking past Angharad, to some unknown point in the distance.

“We can be free,” she says, trying to return Furiosa’s gaze to hers. “I know it’s possible.”

There is still no response and Angharad is afraid she’s losing Furiosa to regret and fear.

 “He doesn’t own us,” she says, testing her boldness and placing a hand on Furiosa’s shoulder.  He just thinks he does.” Her face falls when Furiosa still ignores her.

“We are not things.”

Those words have been pulsing in Angharad’s mind for so long they feel imprinted on her soul. She will die with those words, she knows it, spitting them in Immortan Joe’s face as she rips his mask away. Carving them into his body when she’s done killing him.

It’s those words that bring Furiosa back to her. She looks at Angharad with a new brightness in her eyes. The fierceness and fire that Angharad has come to treasure above nearly everything. And without a word, just silent determination, she closes the gap between them.

Angharad has only been kissed by Immortan Joe before, but this, this is what kissing was supposed to be. She could feel it. Furiosa’s lips were slightly cracked, but as warm as she expected. They gently moved against hers and Angharad gasped at the sensation, leading the kiss deeper.

Furiosa took the lead and threaded her fingers in Angharad’s golden hair, tugging her foreward, until she was on Furiosa’s lap. The movement surprised her, which allowed Furiosa to slip her tongue inside Angharad’s mouth. She moaned at the feeling, opening her mouth wider, drawing Furiosa in deeper. It took a bit to get into the rhythm, but Angharad caught on and moved with Furiosa, feeling a wetness between her legs growing.

When they finally parted, Angharad could see the Furiosa’s cheeks stained red, lips parted in an open smile. Angharad could only breathe heavily.

“I’ll take you there. I’ll take all of you there,” Furiosa says, twirling strands of Angharad’s hair in her fingers.

Angharad smiles, laughter bubbling inside her and kisses Furiosa.

***

Furiosa is everything Angharad has ever wanted in love. She is as sweet and gentle as she is rough and hard.

It was easy for her to go from simple, chaste kissing as it was to sharply biting Angharad’s nipple, exploring her body in equal measures of loving and passionate.

And Angharad loved it all.

Immortan Joe only cares about his own pleasure, but Furiosa seems to live for finding news way to make Angharad moan and gasp. The first time she felt Furiosa’s metal fingers inside her, she felt her release almost instantly, the feeling so arousing. Furiosa had chuckled at her for that, but Angharad used her mouth to quiet her laughs.

Her sisters, while not entirely aware of the situation, knew Angharad was being watched by the Imperator Furiosa. And they also seemed to notice how Angharad would be gone and how she would come back with secret smiles, trying to hide her flush. They, while being curious, respected Angharad enough not to ask many questions.

Of course, there was always one sister who was never afraid to question or approach Angharad. And, honestly, Angharad had expected it to come sooner than it did, but she was ready for Capable when she comes to her.

“You and the Imperator seem…close.” There is no judgment in Capable’s tone, no malice or jealousy. Just curiosity and the weighty expectation of an answer. And Angharad rarely denies Capable anything so she tells her. Everything about the Green Place, Furiosa’s willingness to help, the sketched beginnings of the plans for escape.

All of it comes out, except what has been shared between Angharad and Furiosa’s bodies; the secrets buried in the kisses upon skin and hidden love bites are for them alone. She warms when she thinks of the one just under her left breast, the still stings when she presses it.

Capable nods after hearing it all. And she only says one thing in response.

“Alright. But you’re going to need to help planning. From all of us.”

***

The day finally comes and Angharad can barely stomach her excitement. It doesn’t help that she’s heavily pregnant either. She doesn’t like her body now, aware of who’s child lives inside her, but

“Immortan Joe may have a claim on the child, but this body is yours,” she had said last night while they were together, Angharad gasping around Furiosa’s fingers inside her. “And I love it no matter what it looks like.” She then crooked her fingers and Angharad felt release wash over her. 

She blushes at the memory, still feeling the warmth between her legs.

Furiosa comes for them quickly, sneaking each of them out of the Vault under the dark light of dawn

The others crawl inside the War Rig, but Angharad stops short and turns to Furiosa.

“You’ll be safe as long as you stay back there,” she says, cupping Angharad’s cheek with her sleek armor of her metal hand. “I promise.”

“I know,” she responds. Drawing her Imperator close, she kisses her, deep and full, the last they’ll probably have before the Green Place. “I love you.”

Furiosa looks at her in surprise, then gives her a soft smile. With one last kiss that says everything Angharad needs to hear, Furiosa departs. Angharad gives herself one last look at her retreating back and then quickly scrambles inside the War Rig.

As she sits with her sisters in the darkness, hand on her belly, her love in her thoughts, Angharad closes her eyes and dreams.

She is a princess with her knight and together they’re going to finish this fairytale the way all fairytales are finished. Finding freedom, together.

 

**Author's Note:**

> While I definitely see Capable as more of the "let's make an actual plan of how we're going to escape" I also think Splendid and Furiosa had more of an established relationship before leaving the Citadel (that's what I read, anyway). And although I made Angharad a bit more calculating in this, I see her as someone who's a bit reckless, but not stupid. You don't plan an escape for over a year without being smart and good at manipulating. 
> 
> I do think it's possible Furiosa could've come up with the plan to escape (and those who know more than I do can correct me), but I wanted to write this from Angharad's perspective so for that purpose she's the one with the initial idea.


End file.
